


The Best of Both Worlds

by lenasorensen



Series: youngpilwoon love triangles [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: It's a HUGE mess, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Rimming, Threesome, dowoon is awkward, it's youngpilwoon, it’s a dopil, nc-17 af, some kind of little boy kink i have no idea, what did I do, wonpil is whipped, younghyun is the go-between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14408346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenasorensen/pseuds/lenasorensen
Summary: dowoon likes younghyun's boyfriend.





	The Best of Both Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> i feel very embarrassed
> 
> and i do not own day6
> 
> (hi emma, it's for you)

dowoon hasn’t always known younghyun. he just came to know him many months prior, but he wouldn’t be able to guess his favorite color or dish, like he would for sungjin for example. they aren’t that close individually, but they do hang out in the same circle of friends, which didn’t consist of too many people if he were to be honest. he’s always seen younghyun as someone laid-back, quite generous and altruistic--traits that balanced most of his charms, and generally finds humour in almost every single issue at hand, no matter how basic. like that time when jaebum forgot to put on socks, younghyun managed to pull a joke that sustained until three months later, still has everyone bent in half in laughter.

it’s as if nothing held a particular weight to him, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. (god forbid dowoon befriend overly pessimistic whippersnappers.) it’s entertaining as it can get annoying, although dowoon’s more penchant towards the frolic part, as he finds that he’s naturally similar to younghyun. a funny guy, graced with the magical capacity of making a rock laugh, takes jokes lightly, does them as such, respectful, humble, and so much more that dowoon doesn’t yet know. 

all in all, younghyun is pretty chill. 

that is, unless wonpil is involved. 

ah, wonpil. dowoon’s childhood friend and lifelong crush. they’d met when dowoon was five and wearing his ugly, red sneakers that he hated going out with. although their faces might not have distinguished it, they were a year apart, and despite dowoon standing on the younger scale, he was still the one pushing wonpil out of his swing out of a child’s stupid impulse. their first meeting has been as rocky, but they were both quick to mend dowoon’s impractical mistake and make the best of it. soon after, they became the best of friends. 

unfortunately, they had to part right when dowoon’s crush was busy growing into something unbearably massive. because who can blame him? wonpil had all the appeal to have dowoon wrapped around his dainty little fingers. a nicely sculpted face, cute, crossed eyes, a long, thin neck, those legs that seemed to go on forever when tucked inside shorts. overall, wonpil is very physically attractive and nobody was there to oppose the facts. 

it was in the middle of grade 9, as he remembers, when wonpil’s parents unmasked the ugly revelation of their divorce. until wonpil graduated high school, he had to live with his mother, who had a more secure income, and bide farewell to his father and sister. 

when they said their goodbyes, all dowoon can seamlessly recall was wonpil’s hideous face soaked with salty tears and his wet lashes making them look a mile longer than their original length. 

a soft yet painful croak of goodbyes, gentle, nimble fingers holding dowoon close, a brush of lips on his cheek. there are only frail beads of tears glistening along the rim of dowoon’s eyes, a kind of silent storm going on inside of him, while wonpil was full blown crying and shattering into tiny fragments of himself. it’s always been this way; dowoon curled back upon himself, wonpil painstakingly transparent. and then, wonpil’s back had been turned to him and dowoon had felt hot tears trail down the curve of his chubby cheeks. 

it’s not until years later when they’d coincidentally met as fully grown teenagers tipping towards the daunting challenge of being an adult, when dowoon entered college. by then, his crush has wistfully deflated into a soggy balloon like someone had poked a needle in it, but traces of it have never truly been eradicated. there were only a few things on his mind the first time he saw wonpil’s beautiful face again after so many years. like the curtain of his bangs barely grazing his eyelashes and how he would die to stroke them, or maybe the rectangular flash of his pearly whites that has never changed, his delicate hands strapped to small, thin wrists that he loved holding so much, his sultry, deep voice. 

and then his mind immediately blanked at the sight of a hand running along wonpil’s waist, most certainly not belonging to him. and when his mind registered that fox-faced person who was the owner of said offending hand, dowoon began to unreasonably hold a grudge against him. 

damn right it was younghyun. 

younghyun is wonpil’s boyfriend, and there was nobody in the campus stupid enough to dispute that. he has never witnessed a fact this valid before, before younghyun made it known in very obvious ways how wonpil and he are romantically involved. 

and very sexually active. 

it should have been the beginning of dowoon’s dismay, having lost something that hasn’t had the opportunity to bloom due to unfortunate events. instead, as permanent as younghyun’s relationship with wonpil promised to be, he never would’ve thought of going all the way to the very crest of his affection for wonpil, much less to acquire something he never bargained for. 

—

it’s very obvious, to sungjin, to jaehyung, to jinyoung, to yugyeom--heck, to everyone, this whole inextinguishable puppy crush dowoon sports for wonpil. when younghyun seems to have started bearing suspicions, it had their already fickle friendship balancing on eggshells. younghyun is unpredictable: he could be smiling and making crude jokes with dowoon and the next thing he knows, he would be sarcastically spurting stuff about how clingy dowoon is to his boyfriend. it’s not a newfound revelation that younghyun is just blunt in nature, so it never comes off surprising to dowoon, although in some ways, it still rattles him at times. 

it’s so painfully obvious, dowoon knows it, and wonpil probably knows it too, judging from how weak dowoon gets when faced with a sightful of his dear hyung, how he’s reduced to nothing short of affirmations and cutesy words of praises, high pitched voices topped off with a clumsy behavior. 

the time when it shows the most is during summer vacations, when jaehyung has exclusively reserved the entirety of his enormous beach house in california. it’s only sungjin, jaehyung, wonpil, younghyun and himself. truthfully, he wished for a broader company. maybe then, he couldn’t be too bothered about the mild jealousy sparking to life when younghyun and wonpil both disappeared in the toilet cubicle on the plane. or when wonpil cradled younghyun’s head in his lap on their shared couch, raking those fingers between the burnt blonde locks cloaking younghyun’s head. 

it doesn’t particularly hurt. dowoon simply wishes for something in the similar fashion, most preferably with wonpil. but if he couldn’t, which is fact, then he’d let things be as such. 

it’s just—

sometimes, his childish crush takes over and he finds himself doing things and lightly triggering  
younghyun’s intermittent sense of possessiveness as a result—it’s obscuring itself, because both younghyun and dowoon know how badly wonpil hates to be oppressed. it does emerge, although very rarely. 

dowoon is always present somewhere in a 5 meters radius of where wonpil stood. 

when sungjin and jaehyung ushered wonpil out of the kitchen in fear of his incautious tendencies, dowoon would help wonpil set the table. when nobody volunteered to help wonpil collect wood for their bonfire, dowoon has immediately shot out of his sitting spot—therefore has put the most comfortable option of seats at stake—and has slung a subtle arm around a very pliant wonpil. if younghyun hasn’t been charged with building up the fire, dowoon is sure he would’ve beaten dowoon to it. when wonpil asked for another serving of rice, dowoon was the one scooping a healthy amount in his plate—but that’s only because the pot has been right beside his right arm. 

there is nothing wrong with his daily assistance, however, it’s just dowoon in his whole that fatigued younghyun into unease with the situation. he could feel it, without having him breathing a word in his general direction.

it’s not that younghyun never takes it upon himself to be at wonpil’s service at all available times of the day. younghyun, by all means, is restless. he typically doesn’t stop moving around, always eager and ready for something to do for the sake of everyone’s comfort, even dowoon’s (which is to say that he would do it regardless of whether or not you’re borderline in love with his boyfriend). he’s constantly migrating from spot a to spot b, never leaves his tasks unfinished, always pushes until his job is complete. dowoon is sure that in bed, wonpil must be awfully satiated. 

(well damn, that thought came out of nowhere.)

dowoon is solely quicker, and characteristically more responsive than anyone else since it all feels like he has to put up a thorough fight for wonpil’s unscathed attention. younghyun, on the other hand, is already in an established position as his boyfriend. unlike dowoon, he has his name carved all over wonpil’s very soul, and he, in fact, has hardly anything to lose. if he needs wonpil’s attention for anything, he’d effortlessly obtain it without straining himself too much. dowoon has easily lost the battle before it has even begun. as sad as it sounds, he tries not to let something inflexible trouble him more than necessary. 

let’s not even mention dowoon’s impartially adventurous gaze. 

it starts out smooth, with dowoon regarding wonpil’s physical assets like any other friend would. there’s nothing specifically enticing at first glance, but dowoon’s hell-bent over his affection for wonpil that it’s got him speculating things he wouldn’t recommend when in public to avoid embarrassingly uncomfortable situations. which has happened before by a mere look at wonpil’s lips—and the rest is his over-imaginative mind engineering all sorts of explicit images that irrevocably changed his way of viewing wonpil altogether. 

he’s gotten hard at the beach, in the house between showers, at the beach all over again. 

what has once been an innocent look at his lips turned into a full blown sensual list of things he could do to wonpil. and then there are his pronounced collarbones that sometimes peeked out of the shirt he was wearing, deliciously protruding from his somewhat pale skin. 

now, wonpil left a lot to the imagination with the oversized clothes he likes to wear—most certainly belonging to younghyun too, which is why dowoon always gets carried away with such an incomplex base to work from. he finds himself wallowing in guilt much later when he’s seated on the toilets, pants soiled and himself definitely not sated, instead left with a huge hole in his chest; the urge for more—bigger opportunities, more vivid dreams, or downright the real thing—and then sungjin would yell at him to finish up quickly. 

it’s not a mystery that dowoon is a young man with desires after all, but he can’t help that those desires were specific and had criterias to fulfill. 

boys with a slim waist, tiny, tiny wrists so he can soak them with kisses, a sharp jawline and wide lips. average in height, not too broad in girth and not too slim so to resemble a girl. everything specifically wonpil—

and then, dowoon’s gaze would inevitably drop to his behind before tearing it away to directly meet younghyun’s eyes. 

mistakes.

yes, younghyun must have everything meticulously figured out. dowoon’s really bad at being subtle. his grave voice is already burdensome enough to give his presence away so easily, he doesn’t need this flaw inscribed in his demeanor as well. nonetheless, hell liked it better this way, miserable dowoon seeking for a sexual relief that only wonpil could sate. 

and seriously, it’s not like younghyun and wonpil are doing much to veil their sexual life either. 

dowoon has been the last one to choose his room at the beach house, because older people’s priorities yada yada yada. but he regrets not trampling over jaehyung’s lanky body until he agrees to switch rooms with him, as it turned out to be the one adjacent to younghyun and wonpil’s shared room (the big bedroom). he’s too nice to do such things, and in the end has resigned to sacrifice his precious hours of sleep as the mingled moans and groans filed in his room and kept him awake. 

awake, and with a hand shoved in his boxers. 

god, dowoon is terribly wanton. 

he’s so wanton that sometimes, he has his ears pressed against the wall separating their rooms, concentrates on catching wonpil’s lewd mewls and that nasty sound of slick skin, gives himself a firm squeeze before he’s spilling all over his sweatpants. 

and then he’d wash his hands until he can feel them throb from the applied pressure, lightly quaking in guilt and slips back into his room like he just didn’t jerk off to younghyun going at it with wonpil. 

it’s just like porn, isn’t it? why is it so bad then?

because they’re your friends. and you like wonpil. and wonpil has a boyfriend. 

it’s not like anyone would find out. 

—

(“how did you sleep last night dowoon?” younghyun would ask him. 

“hm. good.” dowoon would nod. 

“sweet dreams?” younghyun would smile suspiciously. 

“you could say that.”)

—

it’s on one unlucky day that he gets trapped within the beach house with only younghyun as his company. it’s not bad, but dreadful. 

all three of them, wonpil, sungjin and jaehyung, had to physically say no to younghyun coming with them to buy food at the convenience store nearby. they haven’t asked dowoon any questions, so he decided to stay mum and endure like he usually does. younghyun complained a bit about doing nothing for a while and jaehyung retorted that he had the pool and the sea at his disposition to visit. it had him tongue tied for once, although his face made it clear that he just didn’t have it in himself to remain still without doing anything. 

after about half an hour of complete silence that seems almost ominous if he didn’t know better, dowoon straightens his back in alarm from his position on the couch, hearing younghyun’s bare feet padding into the living room. they share a quick smile before both of them return to whatever they were previously occupied by. 

dowoon keeps his gaze stern on the screen of his phone and pretends to be oblivious of the gradually thickening air encompassing them. it’s not just for the pleasure of sitting on the couch that younghyun is here, and it wouldn’t take a genius to decipher his ulterior motive. 

“so,” younghyun begins with a sharp intake of breath, not sparing him a glance. “you like wonpil?”

“what?” dowoon sputters around a lump, heart beating erratically fast. 

“do you like wonpil?” he asks again. 

for a moment, dowoon flips into panic mode and comes across a shrieking stumbling block. was it a trick question? should he answer negatively to keep him from trouble? if he did lie, would younghyun be able to tell? and if he did, what will happen to him? to wonpil? to him and wonpil? if he’s honest, would younghyun be forgiving in the least? 

“i, uh, i don’t?” 

“was that a question?” younghyun laughs heartily, relieving some of dowoon’s stress. “i’m serious though. you like him, don’t you?” 

dowoon is torn between nodding and shaking his head, and he messily does both simultaneously, successfully making a fool of himself. 

as if sensing his unease, which isn’t a big accomplishment, younghyun pats his shoulder in very manly fashion—he’s always exuded the kind of masculinity that attracts girls like a magnet (and apparently wonpil too). “i don’t bite dowoon-ah, you can tell me. there’s no trouble.” he reassures. somehow, it’s still not very comforting.

“i… i had a crush on him. it’s obvious, i know… i guess old habits die hard…?” not a lie, but not exactly the truth either.

“are you asking me a question again?” younghyun chuckles deeply, scrunches his nose in good-natured mock. 

“i don’t know what you expected to hear, hyung.” 

“alright, listen here okay?” younghyun says gently yet firmly, with that tinge of seriousness that seldom surfaces on his face. “i know you’re sexually attracted to my boyfriend. am i right?”

sometimes, dowoon really hates straight-to-the-point younghyun.

now that the obvious has been exposed in the broad daylight, dowoon thinks there’s a very slim chance he can still save his skin. it’s just like trying to hide behind a panel of glass. there’s no point going against what younghyun is evidently in control of.

“there’s no hiding that, i suppose.” dowoon sighs, hand coming to scratch at the back of his neck. what can he say? i hope you don’t mind? it’s blatant self-ridicule and ultimately a sure way to dig himself a grave.

“no, you’re pretty obvious.” younghyun says bluntly, and dowoon quietly hums as a response. “but here’s the drill. if you want to have sex with wonpil, there are conditions.” 

“excuse me what?” he quirks his eyebrows incredulously, leans back to stare at younghyun in the eyes. did wonpil’s boyfriend just…? 

“you’re asking a question, again.” younghyun’s humour and disguised smile alleviates the tension by an inch, but it’s not very noticable when his glare avails to a kitchen knife. “i’m giving you a chance, dowoon-ah.” 

dowoon should’ve faltered, appalled at best and mildly surprised at worst. but instead, he’s slightly bending forward, thirsty to know more of those damn conditions. he must appear desperate, in a very sad way.

“what are…” he breathes, heart thumping loudly in his ears. it’s tantalizing. the opportunity is shrieking at him to dive in head first without any reserve. “what are the conditions?” 

younghyun smirks, like he’s unsure, but happy to comply. “as his boyfriend,” he speaks, “i allow you to fuck him all you want.” 

“but…?”

“but it’s gotta be under my supervision.” 

dowoon’s mouth goes dry.

oh, wow. 

“does… wonpil…”

“what about wonpil?”

“does he know about this?”

“thank goodness he does. imagine his surprise.” younghyun is laughing again, and dowoon instinctively smiles for a whole other reason. 

“is he, okay? with this?” 

“mhm.” younghyun smiles, strained on the edges. “although i’m a bit, how do i say this,” younghyun does a ‘so-so’ wave of his hand. “meh about this.”

“oh. uhm… i’m-“

“but wonpil kinda likes you. so i’m willing to lend you this free chance.”

“oh, thank you, hyung.”

“wait.” younghyun holds up a finger before dowoon can muster up all this exaltation building up inside him to smile. “there are more conditions.” dowoon nods dumbfoundedly, not quite believing anything that has been said in this strangely calm exchange for the topic they are discussing. 

“what is it hyung?” he prompts. 

“no doing it behind my back.” 

“fair enough.” 

“and,” he warns, glowering at him. it’s the most serious he’s been since dowoon has met him. it sends a chill down his spine. “no falling for him.” 

huh. 

\--

the conversation fades into the back of his head a few days later, enough time to throw dowoon back into reconsideration. what if younghyun hadn’t been serious? it would make sense, since dowoon’s obvious crush has never been neither addressed nor confirmed, and this was probably younghyun’s witty way of drawing that line that should’ve been solidified long ago. 

even though the prospect of touching wonpil in ways dowoon has dreamt of for longer than he’d admit was painfully tantalizing, the whole promise of it was increasingly becoming daunting. sure, dowoon knows how to handle himself during sex and he could undoubtedly make a wild guess of what wonpil is into, but having younghyun watch them, as he’s stated, was somewhat off putting. it feels all too much like a performance, one where he’d have to face a particularly reprimanding judge; except this was sex, and if dowoon guessed correctly, it’s supposedly intimate. 

then again, conventional sex usually involves two lovers, and much to his dismay, wonpil isn’t his lover (and it reminds him all too much of how odd this whole compromise turns out to be). so he’d comply without dispute to whatever creative conditions younghyun can come up with. make him eat soup with a fork under three minutes or confiscate his erotic magazines from high school for a month, he believes it is worth those soft mewls he’d elicit from wonpil. even if it meant having younghyun’s glower on him. 

did the promise still stand, though?

a text forwarded by younghyun at exactly 1:00 am confirmed just that. 

‘come to our bedroom.’ 

dowoon has been sprawled out on his stomach comfortably watching animal videos, impatiently waiting for sleep to claim him. he has periodically wondered why the other room was so eerily silent, when between these hours, the lecherous sounds of wonpil and younghyun blended into one sharp harmony would be incessantly grinding against the only wall separating them. 

it’s a simple text, but laced with such complexity that has him already stiffening in his pants all from anticipation. 

and before he knows it, he’s standing in front of younghyun and wonpil’s bedroom door, fingers clawing at his damp palms and gaze transfixed on the wooden surface. sungjin and jaehyung are asleep in their rooms at the very far corner of the corridor, but dowoon still chose to wear socks to undermine any traces of him ever being here, pending before the jackpot lot that would irrevocably change his life. 

“hyung, why’d you stop?” a muffled voice from behind the door pipes up, freezes dowoon into a stiff statue. it’s raw and throaty, a mixture of drowsiness and arousal. 

“shh, pil. stay still.” 

taking a deep breath, dowoon turns the knob and enters the room, braces himself for the worst. he quietly adjusts to the darkness shrouding his vision, strains himself to do as little noise as physically possible. 

two heads turn to regard him, one in confusion and the other in anticipation, though he couldn’t yet tell the two apart. dowoon’s pants begin to feel like a tight fit, awfully suffocating like the air in the seethingly dim room. he squirms on the spot and slowly pushes the door to a shut behind his back. 

he’s breathing hard, although he can’t hear himself through the palpitating rush of blood in his ears, he knows it by the tightening of his chest. there lays wonpil, between the ripples of the rumpled blanket and the fluffy set of pillows, clad in nothing but a long, paper-thin button down shirt that he recognizes as his own, leaving his legs bare and draped over younghyun’s shoulders. his hair is a messy haze of brown, falling across his brows. dowoon can easily determine, even with his head swimming in this obscurity, that wonpil is sweating profusely, a layer of sheen coating his neck and his temples. he’s shivering, lips soaked and eyes hooded with sheer lust, hands balled around the sheets. between his legs, there is younghyun, fully clothed and in a perfectly intact shape, his right hand holding on to one of wonpil’s ankle and the other one disappearing inside the bottom opening of wonpil’s shirt and ultimately penetrating beyond his posterior. 

dowoon feels himself twitch in his pants, feels his nails digging deeper in his palms. a step turns into two, turns into three and then he’s sitting on the bed, keeping his gaze on the outline of wonpil’s arched body beneath the thin film of his shirt hardly veiling anything. normally, dowoon wouldn’t wear this shirt by itself, but it oddly fits wonpil more than it has ever himself, especially in this circumstance. 

he doesn’t need to look up to see the smirk on younghyun’s face. 

“aren’t you going to say anything?” younghyun croaks out beside him, retreating his fingers from wonpil’s behind, slick with cherry flavored lube. 

dowoon almost flinches when wonpil sits up to push his lips against his, when wonpil catches the breath that dowoon accidentally heaves in his haste. he ignores the goosebumps on his skin as wonpil’s hands come to grip at his shoulders to pull him down with him. 

it starts out like that, and with natural ease, the three of them skid into position. younghyun vows to stay propped against the headboard, bearing wonpil’s upper body in his lap and halfway on his chest, his hands strapped beneath his armpits. dowoon perches himself over wonpil’s frail body, his knees firmly planted on either side of wonpil, his elbows perched on younghyun’s thigh. he kisses wonpil, tongue and teeth and bruising force born out of desperation and longing that has gathered over time. 

they all pant through their teeth, including younghyun who seems to be enjoying the sight before him more than dowoon would’ve guessed. dowoon finds it harder to breathe when his hardness is nudging against wonpil’s inner thigh, heart clenching and slamming against his ribs when wonpil is reaching down between them to grab himself. 

“nuh uh, wonpil, what did we say?” younghyun grabs his tiny wrist and brings it forth to kiss his knuckles, chuckles softly at the strings of whines rolling out of wonpil’s throat. dowoon stares in bewilderment, bends his neck to continue sucking at the juncture of wonpil’s neck, relishes in the way he squirms helplessly under him. younghyun calmy strokes his hair, buries his nose inside the brown locks and inhales sharply. “got lube in your hair.” he breathes, causing wonpil’s whole body to shudder against dowoon’s wet lips and teeth. 

“please,” wonpil moans, looks at dowoon expectantly, breathes hard. “please touch me. somewhere. do something.”

dowoon licks his lips as he meets wonpil’s hungry gaze, slightly trembling from fear and overbearing arousal. he lets out a quaking sigh before trailing his lips downwards until he reaches wonpil’s oversensitive thighs, examining younghyun’s reaction through the curtain of his bangs. it’s safe to say that younghyun is already turned on; they started off without him after all. 

he peeks under the long shirt wonpil is shrunk in, lets out a throaty breath as he spots the throbbing, burning, bruised cock hiding beneath the cloth. he looks up at younghyun, checks for his permission but shakes it off quickly because he’s already this far in, and hooks his arms around wonpil’s knees to lift them all the way until they are pressed against his shoulders. the shirt folds into itself from the movement like a little skirt coming to pool around his hips, and dowoon hears wonpil whisper inaudible pleas, slobbered against younghyun’s chest. 

“you ready?” dowoon says, inching closer to wonpil’s round ass. he takes wonpil’s eager nod and younghyun’s tireless stare as a green light. 

he nuzzles around the area before giving his hole an experimental lick, trailing the tip of his tongue along the rim and then kissing it gently. in the interval, wonpil is silently whining and vibrating against younghyun who holds him close, pokes his nose in wonpil’s cheek, sighs words of praise in his ears. wonpillie is a good boy. wonpillie is doing so well. he’s taking it like a good boy. hm, wonpillie?

it’s slick and bears a taste unpleasant on his tongue but it doesn’t stop him from pressing himself further between the hills of wonpil’s behind, penetrating his tongue inside the heat. it’s seethingly hot, wet and casted in a sexy shade of pink, and wonpil’s muffled moans prompt him to carry out his performance. 

for a dragged minute, it’s just dowoon and his deft tongue wetting the edges of wonpil’s posterior and inside and then out again until the latter is reduced to a pleasure-ridden mess, tossing and writhing as he’s practically horizontally seated on dowoon’s face. 

wonpil is moving his hips in circles to meet with dowoon’s tongue, digs the heels of his feet into his back and chokes on his own mewls. when dowoon pulls away, wiping his swollen lips with the back of his hands, wonpil is just parting from a heated make out session with younghyun that sends blood rushing in dowoon’s lower abdomen. wonpil is so eager that he’s holding the back of his knees with his hands by himself, exposing his lower half in a wanton need of being filled up as soon as possible. 

“not now. not yet.” dowoon says between staggering breaths. 

“not so soon.” younghyun repeats, kisses wonpil. 

“then do something, please, just touch me.” wonpil begs, gesturing at his angry hardness. dowoon isn’t one for hesitation, so he scoots up and releases wonpil’s legs from himself, ghosts his mouth along the length of wonpil’s cock. “please, dowoon-ah, please.” 

“call him hyung.” dowoon looks up curiously, catches the glistening glint in younghyun’s eyes laboriously trained on wonpil’s quivering lips. he looks so vulnerable drawn between younghyun and dowoon’s bodies, like a child, like a hostage. so unlike how wonpil usually behaves when the sun is up and exposing. 

“hyung…” wonpil mumbles to dowoon, squirms back into younghyun’s broad chest. dowoon’s chest flutters at them having their roles reversed; it gives credit to the image of a child that wonpil is carrying out, so sexy and tantalizing. 

without wasting anymore time, dowoon wraps his lips around the swollen head of wonpil’s dick and flicks his tongue around the slit, drags it along the segment and takes it all in his mouth. wonpil visibly gyrates as he bows his back in a perfect arch, instinctively bucks his hips forward into the billowing heat of dowoon’s mouth. 

he continues to slowly unsheathe himself, drawing up and down motions while kneading the flesh of wonpil’s thighs. his eyes water up meekly as he travels down until the base of wonpil’s cock, until his nose is close to grazing the sensitive skin of his pelvis. he’s too aware of the bulging erection rubbing against the material of his now damp sweatpants, finds himself seeking for more friction to relieve the pain. 

wonpil is loud when dowoon releases him from his mouth to suck at his thigh as he folds his hand around his shaft, stroking it lazily. he takes a brief glimpse at younghyun, sees him binding his lips to wonpil’s smooth neck and gently nipping at the flesh, leaving small patches of bruised skin in his wake. dowoon already spots fresh new ones littering his collarbones next to old, fading ones from all those nights. he’s relieved to notice that younghyun is as turned on as he is, interprets it in the inconsistent grinding of his hips against wonpil’s back. 

dowoon latches his mouth back onto wonpil’s bloated erection, listens closely to wonpil’s vain attempts at tuning his sounds of arousal down to a hush. 

he gropes the base with just the right amount of pressure, presses his head further and drags it back and forth and up and down and in and out and wonpil is restless, twisting and turning and trapping dowoon’s head with his thighs. he’s brewing pain behind his eyeballs and his jaw aches with the amount of sucking and pulling motions he does, but he doesn’t stop. 

“hyung…” wonpil whines, dowoon lifts his heavy eyes to look at him, watches as younghyun shakes his head acutely. 

“he’s gonna come. don’t let him come.” 

dowoon nods, pulls away as he licks his lips, clambers up to sit properly between wonpil’s legs. he makes an effort to pull his shirt off and throws it on the floor, sucks in a breath at younghyun’s close scrutiny. he decides to keep his pants on for good measure, as painful as it makes him. 

dowoon climbs up the stretch of wonpil’s body, runs his hands along wonpil’s arms and leans down to kiss him, long and suffocating and powerful, carefully bites his lips and slithers his tongue in. he lets the grip return to the base of wonpil’s cock as precum is already dripping and soaking wonpil’s white shirt. wonpil whines loudly and clings on dowoon for dear life, eyes squeezed to a tight shut and nails scathing dowoon’s bare back. whispers of please please please let me, please dowoon hyung. 

“got any condoms?” dowoon pants to younghyun.

younghyun tugs it out of his pocket like he already has it prepared in advance and hands the foiled condom to him. dowoon ends up having to tear it open with his teeth and his left hand, watches as younghyun straps wonpil’s thin wrists together only using his hand. 

“no touching yourself. good boys don’t touch themselves. okay?” younghyun says. 

“okay,” wonpil nods enthusiastically, keeping his eyes on dowoon’s fingers tucking himself out of his sweatpants and rolling the condom on. “okay i won’t.” it comes out faint and draped with blatant desperation. 

“and you’ve got to hold it in, is that okay?” younghyun says as if he’s telling a child to hold his bladder. 

“i- i-“ wonpil starts to dryly sob, eyes not actually dripping tears but damp enough to shed some very soon. “please, i need to come, hyung.”

“you need to hold it in, pillie.” 

“i can’t- i can’t hold it much longer.” 

“dowoon-ah, you’ll need to keep your hand there.” younghyun instructs, dark irises turned even darker with the combination of this poor lightning and his overwhelming lust. “and pillie needs to behave like a good boy, understood?” younghyun pinches his nose, ruts his hips against wonpil’s back. wonpil bobs his head again, obedient and pliant and bent in directions younghyun wants him to be. 

his hand is still clasped tightly at the base of wonpil’s cock, feeling it throb and pulse against the pads of his fingers, while the other hand is sticky with the cherry scented lube from the condom. younghyun and wonpil must really like the fruit. 

“hyung, do it, do it now.” wonpil wheezes, earning himself a pinch to his sides that has him jerking his strapped hands out of younghyun’s grasp, only to be gathered back together soon after. 

“no rushing pillie. good boys don’t rush.” 

dowoon huffs quietly as he braces his free hand on the hollow of wonpil’s hipbone, lines himself with his puckering hole. he forgoes preparation, after having soaked the area with his own saliva and the fingers younghyun has given him beforehand. 

so with an aimed thrust, he enters halfway in and throws his head back in stark pleasure, seeing stars behind his lids. it’s tight and almost twice as suffocating as his sweatpants and dowoon is afraid he might come before he even begins to move, especially when wonpil is clenching and unclenching so deliciously around him. no matter how many times younghyun might have done it with wonpil, it would never be enough to drive him anywhere close to being loose. 

he pushes deeper and deeper until he’s buried all the way inside the smothering heat, and it tears a choked cry out of wonpil’s throat. somewhere between focusing on not to blow his load and relish the lewd sounds wonpil makes, dowoon has the mind to be in disbelief at what’s currently unfolding before his eyes (and imbibing him in the more he stays still). he glances over at younghyun who is stroking himself left-handed in his own pants, mouthing a soft go on, gesturing to dowoon. this isn’t really the moment to hesitate. 

dowoon shifts a little to ease off the waistband of his sweatpants until they pool around at his knees, and he begins to slither in and out of wonpil. he’s careful, relentful, slow in his ministrations, afraid to spoil the fun before it has the chance to begin. it has wonpil trembling with each thrust so dowoon isn’t so concerned with his side of the fun. 

he increases the pace of his thrusts and coats it with refined agility gathered through experience, seeking for wonpil’s sweet spot. heat is pooling all over his skin, producing beads of sweat that sharpen the ends of his hair into fine tips, dripping onto the slick surface of wonpil’s stomach over each push of hips. 

he feels himself tipping against a bundle of nerves, and through wonpil’s reaction—spine suddenly arching forward, a loud gasp and violent shudders coursing along his limbs—dowoon knows he’s found the spot.

“dowoon hyung, please, don’t stop.” wonpil keels, keeps his back bent, wriggles atop younghyun. 

dowoon repeatedly hits the spot dead on, unlatches his hand around wonpil’s cock to press the balls of his palms on either side of wonpil’s body in a steady stance, rocks his hips back and forth until his abdomen contracts almost painfully. he’s throbbing and sore inside wonpil, his elbows are trembling and weak from the onslaught of pleasure washing through him, wonpil’s whines and moans driving him insane. 

“ohh, please.” wonpil hisses as he’s been guided to hold his own member, stopping the blood circulation in the swell of his cock. at this point, it’s turned to a crisp brew of purple and red, bloated and visibly excruciatingly painful. 

tears have collected at the corners of wonpil’s eyes, glistening in the dark backdrop, whisk dowoon to brush his lips on wonpil’s ear, jaw, cheeks and right above his lip, at the corners. he lowers his head to press his forehead against wonpil’s shoulder, bows his back so he sees how tightly wonpil is sucking him in. 

with dowoon’s movements, the bed creaks and bangs against the wall, causes wonpil’s body to rock along. the effect ricochets to younghyun who is also miserably panting, mouth hung agape and dry and spilling out silent moans. the combination of the both of them is the sexiest thing dowoon has ever lived to see. 

“i’m close, please let me come now.” wonpil asks to nobody in particular, just hopes for permission. it unconsciously falls from dowoon’s lips, himself coming to grasp wonpil’s hand and stroke his length together with him. 

“you’re doing so well, pillie.” younghyun whispers as close to his ears as he can physically reach, persists his hand motions inside his pants. “you’re so beautiful like this. spread out for dowoon. so eager for hyung. so sexy.” 

dowoon can’t actually make out what is being said, but he’s on edge and ready for his impending release and is frantically stroking wonpil’s cock with him. the bed is spinning and the room is blanketed by a thick mist clouding his senses and all dowoon can feel is the suffocating swelter engulfing him. he sits up to gain better access, hips stuttering and mind in a frenzy. 

wonpil comes first with a sharp, piercing cry, thick and hot and sticky on dowoon’s hand and between their bodies. younghyun comes straight after, soiling his pants, his breath cut short from his lungs and caught in his throat. grunting and fluttering his eyes close, dowoon’s toes curl upon themselves as he spills into the condom, feels it fill the silicone material and encompassing his own cock. wonpil’s body keeps spasming post-ejaculation, as stiff as a stone and as straight as a stick. it leaves even less room for dowoon to draw himself back. 

their loud breathing fills up the heavy silence in the room, dowoon’s eyes shut and head resting against the back of his neck tiredly. when he opens them, he quickly tries to unsheathe himself out of wonpil as best as a man who has just orgasmed could. 

younghyun rests wonpil on the bed and quietly walks out of the room to undoubtedly collect a cloth to clean them up. dowoon seizes the opportunity to crawl beside a half-asleep wonpil, tucks a few strands of hair behind his ear. 

“‘was good.” wonpil whispers to him, kisses him gently. 

“thank you for this, hyung.” dowoon slips back into character, nuzzles his nose in wonpil’s neck. 

younghyun comes back and cleans them all with his ever so charming altruistic courtesy, lethargically discards the cloth on the floor and slides into bed with them. 

if dowoon hasn’t been this thoroughly sated and drained of energy, he would’ve had the inclination to at least sleep in his own bed. but he’s facing a sleeping beauty spooned by the prince himself, and he couldn’t bring himself to vacate this spot. 

he folds the blanket over all of them, and with one last butterfly kiss on wonpil’s cheek, dowoon comfortably rests his head on his arm and fades out into unconsciousness. 

—

(“had fun last night?” wonpil would ask him the next morning, cradling a mug in his hand. dowoon couldn’t help the crimson red bleeding in his cheeks. 

“yeah, yeah i had fun.” he would answer, breathless. they’re facing the counter in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil for their morning tea. wonpil is in all states of disheveled and so is dowoon, but in this moment, time has never been so worthy of living in. 

“i’ve wanted to do this for a while.” wonpil would say, back straight and hoisting a firm stare on dowoon. it would leave him short for air, again. 

“me too.” dowoon would whisper, would find everything in wonpil so disparate, so deviating from last night. wonpil in bed and wonpil right then is like night and day, contrasting and almost shocking. 

but dowoon wouldn’t ask for more.)

**Author's Note:**

> the end was rushed, not gonna lie. also, younghyun wasn't very active, but there might be more.


End file.
